


The ghost in the room

by chaiafterfive



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 16:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaiafterfive/pseuds/chaiafterfive
Summary: Cardan sees some odd interactions between Jude and the Ghost, and decides to hone his slyfooting skills to get to the bottom of it. This may not be the best decision he’s ever made; if you snoop don't be surprised when you don't like what you find.





	The ghost in the room

**Author's Note:**

> ******TWK SPOILERS, BEWARE!******
> 
> I'm 100% a Carjude/Jurden/Cardude shipper so DON'T HATE ME. But. Something felt a bit unfair to me in The Wicked King; at least in Cruel Prince, Jude had Locke as a secondary love interest to balance Cardan having Nicasia (and however many other random faerie lovers). In TWK, Jude has no other interest (I mean, there is the one scene where she kisses Balekin, but she was forced to do that so it doesn’t count!). Yet Cardan seduces Nicasia, and also calls her back from the Undersea to be his ambassador (though I have my theories about why he did this), along with being draped with courtiers.  
> This feels unbalanced to me, so I couldn’t help writing something to give Jude some love on the side to make Cardan jealous.
> 
> This chapter doesn't have mature content but next one definitely will; thus the rating.

Cardan didn't often think of the Ghost. His spy name was apt--The Ghost's presence was unobtrusive, nigh undetectable at times, and nearly all of his actions went unobserved. It was too easy to forget he was even in the room.

He blended seamlessly in with the rest of the royal guard. He rarely spoke, but when he did, he delivered sharp observations with poise and no small amount of wit. Up until this point, Cardan had felt a steady regard building towards him--some mixture of respect, camaraderie, and that bit of distrust which he felt towards everyone.

He’d never had cause to think more on the Ghost than usual. Until now.

The first event that pricked his senses was at the end of a meeting of the Court of Shadows. Jude, never one to shy away from trouble, had volunteered to visit Hollow Hall to investigate reports of some lingering servants and soldiers loyal to Balekin, and what they might be plotting. After hashing out the particulars, the Court disbanded. The Roach approached Cardan to ask about something, but before turning to him Cardan’s eyes snagged on two departing figures, and happened to catch a brief interaction.

The Ghost caught Jude’s arm as she was leaving, pulling her back. Cardan’s eyes narrowed at both the physical touch and such a display of familiarity. Yet Jude, known for her fiery temper and dislike for being manhandled, merely turned back and gave him a questioning look.

“Be careful,” the Ghost murmured, his eyes full of warm concern. What? They were _spies_ for God’s sake, of course she would be careful! What kind of idiotic thing to say was that?

Cardan awaited with eager anticipation the verbal thrashing Jude was about to deliver; she had such a propensity for those, and after such a moronic statement, he knew the Ghost had it coming. He found himself almost smiling.

What happened next left him stunned. Jude nodded demurely without saying a word, then turned and left the chamber.

The second event occurred when Cardan dropped by Jude’s rooms to deliver news of an ambassador’s visit the following night. When he entered, Jude was at her low couch, a thick tome of strategy in her lap, parchment and pen beside her full of notes. This was quite a common scene for her.

What made it uncommon, however, was the Ghost, in a position of repose at the floor in front of the couch, his head resting against Jude’s knees. He was fast asleep.

The scene looked...intimate. 

Cardan didn’t spend a second in her rooms longer than he had to, though he had the strange urge to interrogate them both. The sudden rage building in Cardan was irrational. His boots slammed into the floor of the corridor, echoing through the halls.

How often had he pictured himself in a similar domestic scene with Jude? Rousing her from where she’d fallen asleep at a desk full of letters and papers, and pulling her into bed with him, where she’d promptly fall back asleep with her head against his chest.  
Or, another scene: the two of them getting ready for an event in their shared rooms; Cardan, restless and indecisive in front of his huge wardrobe, with Jude seated in front of a mirror, artfully arranging her hair.

She'd pause to regard him in the reflection, teasing him about his indecision. He'd stalk over to challenge her teasing and before long they’re kissing, and he presses her against the low couch where they make love fully clothed, with Cardan wickedly pulling every last pin out of her hair.  
And when they finally show up for the royal function, their clothing is rumpled and they steal glances at each other throughout the night...

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

_Put it out of your mind_ , he thought wretchedly, the image of the fantasy Jude smiling up at him lovingly. _Gods, put it out of your mind._

Though he knew full well that he could not.

A full bottle of wine was not enough to drown his thoughts of her, but it was enough to put him into a dreamless sleep.

 *****

In the throne room giving audience to petitioners, his eyes strayed to the Ghost, who’d now infiltrated his Royal Guard.

The former royal Prince, and now High King of Elfhame, was feeling suddenly inadequate.

Now whenever he saw the Ghost, with or without Jude, he couldn’t help but subject him to intense scrutiny. The Ghost was not quite as tall as Cardan, but was tall nonetheless. Lanky, but more muscled, with lazily tousled hair the color of wheat ripe for harvest. His eyes were a hypnotic hazel, the tips of his ears softly rounded in a near-mortal fashion. There was no denying it--the Ghost was quite handsome. And it pained Cardan much to admit it.

Perhaps even worse, he had an air of utter confidence about him. His reticence bespoke an economy of words and preference for action over deliberation, which made him appear heroic and decisive. He also showed great poise and restraint. Control.

Add to this the fact that he was highly skilled in all manner of combat and espionage. He knew countless styles of swordplay, was a deadshot with the crossbow, and had taught Jude how to dangle from ceiling beams and balance while blindfolded.

He was sure that the Ghost likely viewed his episodes of drunken debauchery with distaste. It was then that he remembered the Ghost was likely far older than he.

Cardan couldn’t help but feel a begrudging respect for the spy, though it soon morphed into resentment and near-hatred.

He lowered his face into his hands. Of course Jude would love him. She’d devoted her life to the martial arts, to strategy, to honing herself as one would a weapon. And here was a very master of those things, and Prince Dain’s most trusted spy, _and_ conveniently handsome.

Cardans fingernails dug into his scalp. Of course she would love him. Of course.

 

*****

 

Back at the Court of the Shadows, Cardan was nowhere near capable of keeping his attention on his hand in poker. The Roach was robbing him blind, and teasing him mercilessly about it, but he was helpless.

His eyes strayed to the form of the girl at the low wooden table, plans and maps laid out before her, along with a modest meal of warm bread, cheese and pears. Her eyes scanned the documents with a sharp eye, while she nimbly sliced a hunk of cheese from the wheel and chewed it thoughtfully.

_Who is he to you?_ He wanted to demand. 

Cardan recalled one time she’d even called him a _genius,_ in fact, she’d praised him quite a bit when he thought about it. She’d laid much praise for all of the members of the Court of the Shadows over these past months, but now he racked his brain trying to remember everything she’d ever said about the man.

Speak of the devil.

A whispering autumn breeze was the only warning before the Ghost slipped silently into the room and into the wooden bench beside Jude. So close that their thighs were pressed together. He reached over and grabbed a slice of pear from her plate, tossing it into his mouth.

His posture was casual, totally relaxed, as was Jude’s. He eyed the plans laid out before her and made a soft comment, setting off a low discussion between them. His arm stretched out on the bench behind them, brushing Jude’s shoulder.

Cardan trembled. Not in sadness, but in rage.

What was this? A royal prince, now the High King, feeling inferior to some mortal-bred nobody of a faerie that couldn’t even be counted among the Gentry? Someone whose real name nobody even knew, and had in all likelihood been forgotten by anyone of importance?

Cardan was the High King of Elfhame, and he was going to find out _precisely_ what sort of relationship there was between Jude and the Ghost.

Turning back to the poker table, he saw he’d lost what looked like a mountain of gold coins, but he was so far from caring that he might another time have found it hilarious. It was certainly the last thing on his mind when he looked at Roach for probably the first time that evening and said, in a carefully neutral tone, “You’ve obviously thrashed me at cards this evening. Do you mind if we resume our slyfooting lessons?”


End file.
